Separated
by rime-n-rezon
Summary: What if Harry had a twin sister? What if she was psychic? What if she was meant to save the world? Where does Malfoy fit into this? AU/OOC, Weasel/Ginny/DumbleDouche BASHING. Violence, language, and BOY ON BOY GOODNESS.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, this is my first chaptered fic, so be nice! This is marked M for future chapters that will include: Violence/gore, language not suitable for kids, a serious case of author-has-gone-crazy syndrome, and sweet lemony boyxboy goodness! Don't like, don't read. I will love you forever and ever if you review for me. No flames, please.  
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**Alas, I am not J.K. Rowling. If I was, the movies would be porno. **

**Let me know if you like it. Kaythxbai :D  
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* * *

**Her waist-long black hair was draped over her shoulders, her emerald green eyes were focused. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she bounded down the steps to her basement; she slept down here, preferring it to all the other rooms in the enormous house. The enormous, all-too-empty house. She let her gaze sweep over the remainder of her belongings that she would be leaving behind. She'd already packed the most important treasures: her adoptive mother's locket, a photo of the two of them (they had an uncanny resemblance; if you didn't know she was adopted, you never would've guessed), all of the money she had left, her clothes (shrunken, in order to fit in her rucksack), and the letter.

It was the first piece of mail she'd ever received. It was dually special because it was the first Hogwarts letter she'd gotten, though there were many more. They sent a new one every summer, because she kept declining. She chose, instead, to have her adoptive mother, Jane, teach her everything she needed to know about being a wizard: the laws, spells, and advantages. They had always chuckled when they opened the Hogwarts letters; the parchment made good bedding for Jane's guinea pigs.

But for some reason, she'd held on to the first. It had been six summers since she'd received this one, and nothing had changed her mind. She wouldn't be going to Hogwarts, because true evil resided there. She felt it stirring, knew it was awakening, and she was scared. Terrified.

The day Jane had died, exactly three weeks ago, she fell into an unconscious, robotic state of life and did not wake until after the funeral. They had been out in the garden when a sudden shout and flash of green light had soared straight over her head, slamming into her loving, caring, beautiful adoptive mother. Before she had a chance to register what the spell had done, she heard an unforgettable cackling, and spun around to see the attacker. He'd grinned so widely she hoped his lips would rip in half, and then, with a loud pop, he was gone. She knew who'd caused this, and she was going to hunt him down.

* * *

She reached for the doorknob, preparing to leave her home in Scotland and flee to the north. She knew there was a massive battle with dark against light approaching soon, and she wanted to be as far away from it as possible. It was her slight moment of hesitation that may have saved millions of people's lives. She heard a tapping noise coming from the window in the dining room, and turned to find Jane's owl, Jupiter, impatiently waiting to be let in. She smiled and opened the window. He dropped a rather thick letter at her feet, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the official looking seal on the envelope. It almost stopped altogether when she realized that it was addressed to her.

With shaking hands, she ripped open the letter. It said, in a messy scrawl:

"Dear Miss Potter:

It has come to my attention that you are nearing your 17th birthday. On 31 July, you will be of age as specified by wizarding laws. On this date you will have access to your family's vaults. You will need to pay a visit to our London branch within thirty days of this date, or all attempts to access the vaults in the future will be denied. Thank you, and have a nice day.

Griphook, President of Gringotts Wizarding Bank"

Potter? Who was this Potter woman? Her last name wasn't Potter, it was Robbins, Jane's last name. But maybe...Potter was her real last name. As much as she tried to stop herself, her eyes kept glancing back to that one word. _Family._ She refolded the parchment, stuck it in her rucksack, and set off for the train station. Once there, she pulled out the money she had been saving up, and bought a ticket. Jamie Potter was heading for London.

* * *

Harry Potter scratched his chin. He'd been trying to do his damned Potions assignment when an incessant tapping noise jolted him from his train of thoughts. He tried ignoring it, but when it refused to stop, he shoved the balls of his palms into his eyes and stood up from his chair. He stretched his arms above his head, not unlike a cat, and gazed around the mess of his room.

When his eyes reached the window, he finally realized where the tapping noise was coming from. He grinned sheepishly and stepped over to the window to let Hedwig in. His beautiful, snowy white owl nipped his hand gently for taking so long to let her in, and then dropped a thick letter at his feet. He recognized the Gringotts seal and smiled to himself as he opened the letter.

When he finished reading, he gave Hedwig a treat and folded up the letter. He just couldn't wait to be seventeen. He could finally move out of the Dursley's house, and he had no doubt they'd be just as happy as he would.

He was pondering where he'd move away to when he happened to glance back down at the floor. There, underneath the discarded Gringotts envelope, was a small, yellowish looking letter. Harry jumped up out of his chair and scooped it off the ground. There was no return address, just his name scrawled in a nauseatingly familiar looking handwriting. He tore open the envelope and held his breath. It said:

"Dearest Harry,

It is with deep regret that I must tell you this. If you have received this letter, then I am dead. I want you to know that I will always be with you, even when I cannot be there physically. My reason for writing you this is to inform you that everything you will ever need in your life has been laid out for you. On the morning of your Seventeenth birthday, you will gain access to each and every vault in my name at Gringotts. Yes, we have more than one.

If I am dead, and if, by some unfortunate bout of fate, your mother is as well, you are most likely living with Lily's sister. You must leave the Dursleys as soon as you possibly can, because they will not let you live to see your birthday. You must be out of their house before midnight of the day before your birthday, not a minute later. The protection charms that stop them from seriously hurting you will end the moment you come of age. This is not something to take lightly.

I want you to know, dear Harry, that I will always believe in you. Others, unfortunately, will not. Your mother and I went to a Seer before you were born, and there are three important things you absolutely have to know:

1) Not all of the Weasleys are to be trusted. Beware the one after your heart.

2) You may trust some unlikely people. Severus Snape, to give an example. He and the Malfoys will be of utmost importance to you in the near future, so please try to patch up your feuds and befriend them.

3) Your mother and I are trusting you to take care of Jamie. She may be older than you by fifteen minutes, but she is still too insecure. Watch over her. I know you'll be a great brother to her.

It is with sadness in my heart that I must say goodbye now, but rest assured, I am still with you.

Love always,

James Potter."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter sat up in bed, awakened from yet another nightmare. This one was new, and it shook him to the bone.

He was one year old. He was smiling and cooing and laughing with his parents. Then the door burst open with a bang and his mother jumped up and ran. His father shouted at the intruder, yelled at Lily to run faster, screamed obscenities, but then his voice died after an inhuman screech of a curse and a heart-wrenching thud as his body fell lifeless to the floor. Lily had panic in her eyes; she knew she would not live through this. She carried the boy into the nursery, and set him into his crib.

Harry looked around, and saw a little girl, about his size, with his mother's hair and his father's eyes: his exact opposite. His mother silently mouthed the words to various protective spells and then the door was thrown off its hinges. The man waltzed in, not once taking his eyes off of Lily. Harry would never forget the look in his eyes. The screech, the flash of green light as bright as his own eyes, and Lily's stone-cold body collapsing to the floor. Since Harry was only an infant in the dream, there was nothing he could do to shield himself or the other baby. But when the malicious man raised his wand and grinned, Harry knew what would happen. Or so he thought.

The monster cast the spell, that screeching high-pitched voice forever burned into Harry's memory. He thought it would merely bounce off of his forehead and slam back into the man; that's what had really happened. In his nightmare, however, the curse hit him full on. His body burned and he thought he was going to explode. His head hit the soft cushion of the crib, but his eyes still worked. He saw the baby girl - his mind's personification of his long-lost sister - giggle and clap her hands. Voldemort smiled as he flew effortlessly over to the baby, lifting her up out of the bed. He saw the man grin and coo at her, before the pair left. The man who'd killed his parents had taken his twin sister, and was going to turn her evil.

When he had fully roused himself from the sleep-clouded replay of the dream, he stood up and shook himself awake. He poked his fingers into Hedwig's cage to wake her up and grabbed a sheet of parchment. He needed to write to Hermione.

* * *

The train ride to London was agonizingly slow. She had already wasted almost all of the muggle money she had left on her, and galleons would do her no good on this train. She found herself feeling claustrophobic, hungry, and utterly bored. Somehow, though, she had drifted off to sleep, only to live through the same exact nightmare her twin brother had just experienced. In her version, however, she had been the one to die. And she had, in reality, if you thought about it.

Their parents murdered, they were left alone. They were separated, she had never even known he existed. But now, Harry was famous. She, on the other hand, was a nobody. Not that she minded, but she wondered how exactly she had gone unnoticed. Obviously someone had come to their home and taken Harry away. Why didn't they take her with him? Why wasn't she allowed to grow up thinking she had a family, that there was someone like her? Her thoughts cleared instantly as a quiet bout of static came on over the intercom of the train, signifying the conductor was about the make an announcement. She shifted slightly in her seat, and waited for what he had to say. The calm, deep voice told the passengers that they were nearing the London station, so please begin gathering your belongings.

She felt the knot in her stomach tighten considerably, and silently hoped that luck would be in her favor.

* * *

"Stand up."

He made no attempt to get off the ground.

"I know you heard me. Now, STAND."

He pulled his knees into his chest and thought maybe if he folded himself in tight enough, he would disappear altogether.

It didn't work.

The footsteps pounded on the tiled floor. He squished his eyes shut so tight he was sure the lids would rip open and braced his body for impact.

The kick was well-aimed. It was en route to smash into his stomach, but for some reason, the blow never came. He allowed himself to slowly slide one eyelid open, just long enough to see what had happened. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

His father, who had been towering above him, was now lying on the floor. From what he could see, the man wasn't breathing. He rose to his feet slowly, and checked for his father's pulse. There was none. Lucius Malfoy was dead.


	3. Chapter 3

Her hands grip the table of the hotel room she is staying in. Her breath comes in quick, shallow gasps and her head is pounding to an unreasonably fast tempo. The lights around her grow too bright and she slams her eyelids shut to try and block it out. Every small noise is a gunshot and just as she is about to scream, it stops. The pounding resides to a dull throb and the lights, she realizes, are incredibly dim. She has no idea how long she has been debilitated, and frankly, doesn't care to know.

It was a vision.

It was like none she'd ever had before, and certainly not one she'd like to have again.

She'd predicted death.

The horrifying, gruesome, all-too-violent deaths of hundreds of thousands of people.

She'd heard the screams, felt the blows, experienced the grief for lost loved ones.

And what was worse than everything else, was that at the end of the vision, she had been inches away from saving her brother - the one she'd never known - when a killing curse struck her square in the stomach. She hadn't saved him; they'd both wound up in the arms of their parents.

This was one vision Jamie just couldn't allow to come true.

She knew what she had to do.

She had to make sure that she was close to her brother when the battle finally came. She had to make sure he knew who she was, so he could shout to her for help.

If he lived, the world lived.

If he died, well, so did everyone else.

In order to save the world, she had to befriend her brother. If she was going to keep thousands of people alive, she had to find Harry Potter. To prevent evil from taking over the world, she had to do the one thing she'd promised herself she would never do.

She had to go to Hogwarts.

* * *

It was July 23. Exactly eight days before he turned 17. Seven days until he had to leave his 'home' forever. He had one week to inconspicuously pack up everything he owned that he'd be taking with him. He'd start with the small stuff; Hedwig couldn't carry much more than her own body weight. He had to send his things to Hogwarts, where the house elves would put them in his dorm room. He'd been sending small amounts of things so his uncle wouldn't be alerted of what he was doing, but now that it was getting closer to his birthday, he had to figure out a way of getting the larger stuff out. Like his trunk; there was no way Hedwig could lift it, let alone carry it all the way to the school. He stretched out on his bed and slid his arms underneath his head.

He'd written to Hermione, but had gotten no reply. He assumed it was because she was busy, but his thoughts kept flickering back to his father's words. If some of the Weasleys weren't to be trusted, where did that leave Hermione? Maybe she was someone to rely on. But then, why didn't she respond to his letter?

He stood up and shook his head. He was letting his thoughts distract him, and he had to focus on how to clear out his room. Then it dawned on him, and he couldn't believe how stupid he had been.

Late that night, after everyone else had gone to bed, he lit a fire in the living room fireplace. He sprinkled in some floo powder out of a bag he kept hidden in his room, and watched, completely entranced, as the small orange fire suddenly blazed up and turned green. He smiled to himself for figuring it out. He waited until the fire wasn't burning as intensely, and then pushed a small box of parchment into it. If this plan worked - and the box didn't actually catch on fire - then he'd put the rest of his belongings through.

He almost shouted for joy when the box suddenly disappeared - pulled through to the other side by a waiting house elf. Once his control was regained, he began to push the rest of his belongings into the fire.

He was about to shove his trunk through, when it banged into the table, making a loud _thump. _

Harry froze.

He heard the unmistakable grumble of his uncle waking up, the creak of the bed, the groan of the floorboards as the whale of a man got to his feet. Harry quickly maneuvered his trunk to face the fire, and pushed it through.

As soon as it went through to the other side, Vernon Dursley appeared at the top of the stairs. When he saw that no good excuse for a boy crouched down by the fire - no doubt trying to burn their house down - his face instantly turned a vivid shade of purple. He rushed down the stairs as fast as his fat legs would take him, and picked the boy up off the ground.

Vernon pushed his face as close to the stupid kid's as he dared, and growled, "What the hell are you doing, you ungrateful idiot?"

Before Harry had a chance to respond, he saw his uncle draw back his fist as if to punch him. His natural instincts took over, and he kicked his uncle in the shin. Hard.

Spiting and swearing, his uncle released the hold he had on Harry's shirt collar. When he recovered, he stood up straight and reached out to hit the boy. His hand was about to smash against the boy's face, when it instead connected with the mantle.

Harry Potter had jumped into the fire.

* * *

She hadn't meant to kill him. Honestly. She had just done what came natural to her - protecting her son.

She'd been watching through the windows in the parlor. She had heard the yelling and ventured out of her study to see what was going on. What she saw made a shiver go down her spine and her heart swell up with pain. Her son was lying on the floor with his knees up to his chin with his arms around his head, her husband standing above him. She saw his look of disgust - as if he couldn't believe this disgraceful child was his son. This enraged her. But what happened next had infuriated her. She put her hand to her mouth and watched in stunned horror as her husband continued to yell, then pulled back his foot. As she saw the leg swing forward in what could only be a fatal blow, and before she could consider the consequences of her actions, she shot a curse - so powerful, so wrought with anger and fear for her son - at her husband. The brilliant light raced through the air and seemed to give his body an eerie green glow. She sobbed in what might have been relief as his body crashed to the floor, and then ran to her son's side.

He was breathing to quickly, his pulse was racing, and he couldn't seem to unfurl his legs, but he was alive. She ran a hand through his hair, and pulled him close to her. Her shoulders shook silently as she wept and held her son while trying not to look over at Lucius's dead body.

Narcissa Malfoy had killed her husband.

* * *

**A/N: What will be people say when they find out Lucius is dead? Will Jamie get into Hogwarts? What is Harry going to do?**  
**Seriously, answer my questions. I have no clue.**  
**A review or two might help me think more clearly ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

_Stupid stupid stupid. _The mantra kept repeating in Harry's head. He'd just spent twenty minutes wondering what to do next, and it had just now dawned on him.

Damn, he was dense sometimes.

He stood up from the chair in the Gryffindor common room and stretched out his muscles.

The door swung open as he stepped out into the empty corridor. Hogwarts was unbelievably creepy when it was deserted.

Sometimes it was scary when it was full of people..

He shook his head and tried to focus on the sound of his footsteps on the tiled floor as he made his way down the hall. He finally approached the door, whispered a password, and was presented with a brilliant spiral staircase. He started to climb them, but paused when he thought he heard a voice coming from the office above. He crouched down on the stairs, and, minutes later, started to feel ridiculous. Right as he was about to stand up and continue walking to the office, he heard his beloved headmaster say, "Ah, young Mr. Malfoy. To what to I owe this pleasure?"

That git was here? Great, that shot down Harry's plans.

Malfoy's cold, clear voice rang out through the room. "My father is dead, Professor. My mother killed him because he was trying to kick me. I..I don't know what to do. It feels like it's my fault. And I didn't know who else to turn to…"

His voice trailed off and Harry could practically feel him tremble. This must be seriously scaring him, otherwise Malfoy would be acting like a complete prat.

He heard Dumbledore stand and walk over to the young man's chair. He said, "He will be greatly missed, Draco. Your father was a great man, and an excellent resource to our side. Have you or your mother informed the Dark Lord of his demise?"

Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head. Did he hear that correctly? Our side? Which side was Dumbledore talking about?

Draco sniffed. He was crying? Oh, gods. This was bad.

Harry shook his head again. Why did he care that Draco was crying? Oh, right. His mum just murdered his dad. Of course Harry felt bad for him.

The words he heard next made his head swim and caused everything he knew about life to fly out the window.

"No, we haven't told him yet. You know what our Lord will do when he finds out Mother killed him. I, for one, am in no hurry to have that conversation."

OUR Lord? What the heck was going on here?

Draco's drawl continued, "But sir, since my father is now..out of the picture..I don't have to go by the plan he had laid out for me. I can be who I want to be, and not who he expects me to be. I can be my own person. And because of this newfound freedom, I've decided that I want to be resorted. I don't want to be a Slytherin anymore."

Harry barely stifled a gasp. He found himself unconsciously leaning towards the room, as if to hear better.

"Draco, I think we should inform Voldemort of this unfortunate event. Please, just relax. I'll summon him." Harry crawled up the stairs on his belly just in time to see Dumbledore lift his sleeve.

His left sleeve.

To reveal a frail, white arm. An arm that had a tattoo the darkest of dark green ink in the shape of a skull with a serpent biting its own tail.

The dark mark.

His heart stopped.

Harry ran down the stairs, not caring if he was heard, and burst out into the corridor. He took off for the common room, racing through the hallways as fast as he could. He slammed the portrait door shut behind him and sink down to the floor.

This could not be happening.

* * *

Her eyes flew open and she sat straight up in bed. Her head whipped around from side to side, trying to recognize her surroundings. When she finally remembered where she was, she sighed deeply and slumped back against the pillows.

Jamie was in The Leaky Cauldron, having been there a few times with Jane. She was supposed to go into Diagon Alley today to get a few things for the perilous journey that awaited her. She shuddered when she thought of it. Hogwarts was going to be awful, she thought.

Rolling out of bed, she stretched like a cat and tried to shake the sleep from her eyes. Reaching for a clean set of clothes, she started towards the bathroom. She stopped when something moving on the floor caught her eye.

She leaned down and pulled up a newspaper. Someone must have delivered it for her while she was still sleeping. On the front page was a picture of a boy, about her age. He was smiling brilliantly, and had glasses that slightly enlarged the brightest green eyes Jamie had ever seen. Well, besides her own. She looked down at the headline, and her breath caught in her throat.

**Harry Potter: Our Hero, or Just a Silly Kid?**

She took one last look at the paper, then tossed it into the fire.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sighed when the young Malfoy lad left his office. The news had not gone over well with the Dark Lord, and Draco had to escort the man to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa would be in for a shock.

He gazed around the room, and his twinkling eyes rested on the Sorting Hat. Would he allow the boy to be resorted? Of course he would wind up in Gryffindor. And that would put him in danger. He knew that the Gryffindors despised Draco. And the boy was much to important too put in harm's way.

His thoughts were disrupted by a portrait of a former headmaster. She whispered, "Albus, someone has just crossed the school wards."

He stood slowly and nodded to the woman in the painting. He walked calmly out of his office and down the staircase. He reached the bottom and hurried down towards the front lawn. A girl was standing just outside the gates, looking up at the school. The look on her face was a mix between awe and confusion.

When she spotted him, she called out, "Excuse me, sir! Sir! Can you help me out?"

He smiled knowingly, and opened the gates to let her in. When she strode up to him, the smile on her face was obviously forced.

She said, "Oh, you're Albus Dumbledore. I've read all about you." She flushed slightly, but continued. "You see, you're just the man I'm looking for."

His eyebrows rose a bit, then settled back down. He asked, "And how may I be of assistance to you, my dear?"

She smiled and stuck out her hand. "My name is Jamie Potter, and I've come to enroll in your school."

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, so Dumbledore isn't dead. I wish he was, but he isn't. What will he say to Jamie? How did he wind up on the dark side? And how was Harry going to find out?  
I'd really like to know..  
Also, sorry for the slow update. My internet's acting up and not being very nice. I'll have the next chapter up soon, though.

Reviews = Love. 3


	5. Chapter 5

It had been nearly two hours since he'd seen something impossible. He stood up from his surprisingly comfortable place on the floor and walked over to the fireplace, then turned and shuffled to the couch. Repeating this process cleared his head.

Was his headmaster really on the dark side?

He shook his head. The answer was obvious.

Why did Draco Malfoy want to be resorted, and did Lucius truly have his son's entire life planned out?

Well, knowing the Malfoys, Lucius probably had it all set up. Harry wondered briefly if this meant Draco was to have an arranged marriage, then asked himself why he cared. That question stopped him in his tracks.

Why did he care?

Grumbling to himself, he resumed his pacing.

Could he still trust in Dumbledore?

Should he tell someone?

He quickly shook his head, answering both inquiries.

The next questions that came to his mind were: Who was Jamie, and how had his father sent him a letter, when James had been dead for almost sixteen years?

Those were questions he just didn't have the answers to.

But he was determined to find out.

* * *

"Lemon drops," was all the old man said.

Before Jamie could say "what?", a door slid open and presented them with a beautiful spiral staircase.

Dumbledore simply smiled and led her up the stairs and into his office.

He sat down behind his desk and motioned for Jamie to sit in a comfortable-looking chair. She sat, and waited for him to speak.

His deep, thoughtful voice reached her ears a moment later. He said, "So, Ms. Potter - or shall I call you Jamie?"

She smiled slowly, and replied, "For now, you may call me Ms. Robbins."

He nodded politely and started again. "Alright, Ms. Robbins. I understand that you've decided to come to our school to study. What I would like to know, is why?"

She took a moment to consider this. How exactly did she tell this man that she was here to stop Harry Potter from being murdered, thus saving the wizarding world?

She sighed softly. Unable to think of a good way to phrase it, she did something that had always come easy to her. She lied.

"I'm here because my adoptive mother was murdered. She had been teaching me the things that you teach your students here. We were actually in the middle of a Herbology lesson when she.. When it happened."

She paused for a moment, and shook her head. "Unfortunately, this means I am not finished with my studies. As I'd received no offers from other schools, Hogwarts seemed to be my last option."

She tried to ignore the twinkling in the headmaster's eyes and the sinking feeling in her stomach as he handed her a crumpled black hat.

"Well then, Ms. Robbins, I'm going to need you to put this on."

* * *

He sat there, slumped on the sofa, as he listened to the screams. They were unholy screams. Terrifying screams.

His mother's screams.

He wouldn't sleep tonight.

Probably never would again.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, silence filled his pounding head. Then there was a quiet, "_Crucio_," before the shrieks began again.

He stood and left the parlor. When he reached his room, he shut his door as quietly as he could, then sunk down to the floor. The first burning tears were like molten lava on his pale skin.

Draco Malfoy was crying.

Malfoys weren't supposed to cry.

His father's scolding voice rang out clear in his head. _Stop that useless display of emotion, Draco. You'll never be good enough to be a Malfoy._

He'd heard those words so many times in his short life, it was like they were burned into is brain. Although, his father could have probably arranged that..

He knew he was a disgrace to his father. He had known since third year, when they had had that awful conversation. Draco had let it slip that he had a crush on someone at school, and his father wanted to know who the object of his son's affection was.

"She has to be good enough for a Malfoy."

Draco shuddered at the memory of Lucius's face scrunching up as if he'd gotten a whiff of something foul. He had been utterly disgusted at Draco's mumbled reply.

"Father, it isn't exactly a she.."

* * *

**A/N**: **Harry's confused, Jamie is worried, and Draco is..Gay? Well, we all knew that.  
I just wanted to say a quick thank-you to Readr16, for giving me my first review. I really really appreciate it, and I hope all your questions will be answered in the next couple of chapters.  
As always, Reviews = Love :3**


	6. Chapter 6

The door clicked shut, and she found herself alone again. The silence was almost overwhelming, so she dug one of her most prized possessions out of her pocket. Oh, sweet, wonderful iPod. She turned it on and ran her finger over the wheel. Slipping the white headphones into her ears, she selected a song to ease the quiet. All We Are by One Republic drifted through the ear buds, and immediately she relaxed.

With the music on, she finally looked around. The dorm room she had been assigned was larger than she'd expected. There were three medium-sized beds, only one of which had sheets.

_The middle bed must be mine_, she thought, and set down her knapsack. She pulled out her trunk, aimed her wand at it, and said, "_Engorgio_."

Putting her wand back into her pocket, she pulled the trunk over to the end of her bed. Removing the other contents of her bag, she began to set up her things on the desk nearest to her four-poster. She slid her letters into one of the desk's drawers.

Dumbledore had given her some school supplies, but advised her nonetheless to go into Diagon Alley to get more.

She extracted her pouch of money from the bag. Opening it slowly, she was shocked to find it completely empty. She felt her heart drop, before she remembered the money in her family's vaults.

Smiling to herself, she finished unpacking. She was about to put the empty knapsack into the trunk when her fingers hit something small and cold. Something entirely too familiar. Freezing momentarily, she panicked. She thought she had left this at home… Slowly, she removed the object from her bag.

She stared at the box in her hand. It held too many memories; too many painful thoughts. It filled her with sadness and something that vaguely resembled fear.

She had come too close last time.

Opening the box with heavy fingers and a knot in her stomach, she pulled out her best friend from years ago.

A very thin, very sharp, very familiar razor blade.

Jamie ran the smooth metal between her thumb and forefinger and instantly remembered the last few run-ins she'd had with the blade.

Loathing herself a little bit more each second, her thoughts became angry; self-hating. _So stupid_, she told herself. How the fuck was she supposed to save the Savior of the Wizarding World's life, if she was so willing to try to take her own?

Rejecting everything her brain was screaming at her, she relapsed into a state she had so carefully shielded herself from.

Every bad thing that had ever happened was suddenly her fault. Everyone hated her. She had no friends. Jane was dead, dead, _dead_.

She slid the cold steel across her arm and watched the crimson blood stain the blade that was as silver as the dorm room around her.

* * *

Harry raced down the corridors, his feet moving as rapidly as his brain. Where was he going? He couldn't think clearly enough to figure it out. He was just running. His thoughts were swimming and battling for dominance.

Everything he ever thought he knew was a lie. _Next thing I know_, he thought, _Malfoy will be telling me he's in love with me._

That single sentence stopped him short. Where the fuck had that idea come from?

He shook his head and started running towards the Gryffindor tower. He rounded a corner and slammed face first into…

"Malfoy? What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

The blond stiffened slightly when he recognized Harry's voice, then straightened his robes, and sent the Gryffindor a cold glare.

"If you must know, Potter," he drawled, his voice devoid of any emotion whatsoever, "I came here to inform the headmaster of my father's demise."

Harry couldn't stop his eyes from widening, even though he already knew Lucius was dead.

He was simply surprised that Malfoy was talking to him, and not punching him in the nose.

They were both shocked out of their skin when Harry placed his hand on Draco's arm and whispered, "I'm sorry for your loss."

He knew it was true; he was sorry that Malfoy had to know the pain of losing a loved one.

He just wasn't necessarily sorry for whom he had lost…

* * *

He'd only come back to the school because he had forgotten his cloak. He certainly had not expected this to happen...

Draco blinked. And blinked again, twice. Then he realized Potter was touching his arm. And it didn't hurt. It wasn't burning off, but there seemed to be a somewhat pleasant warmth where skin met skin.

Unconsciously, he leaned towards the heat, and found himself taking a step closer to Potter. Then, before he knew what was happening, he threw his arms around the taller male's waist and held on to him tightly.

The tears leaked out before he could even think to stop them. _Malfoy's don't cry_, his father's voice scolded. This made him shudder and cry harder.

He cried because he was a monster; he cried because he didn't miss his father. Not a single bit.

The blond froze when he felt Potter move, then he instantly relaxed when strong arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders.

This warmth felt amazing.

He lifted his head and locked teary silver eyes with green ones so bright they lit up the room.

What surprised him more than the fact that Potter looked genuinely concerned was how far apart they were.

Or, rather, how close they were.

He sucked in a short breath when he noticed that Ha- Potter's lips were mere inches from his own. If he would just lean forward a bit…

Harry seemed to hear Malfoy's thoughts and slowly, agonizingly slowly, tilted his head and pulled the blond in closer.

And then Draco's mind exploded.

His eyes snapped shut of their own accord, and he found himself leaning even further into the brunette's arms.

How did Potter's lips get so damn soft?

The boys poured themselves into this one kiss, and each discovered that he wanted more.

A tentative tongue prodded gently and Draco's lower lip, and he eagerly allowed it admittance.

Po- Harry's arms tightened around his shoulders, and they got closer than Draco had ever dreamed.

Yes, he'd had these dreams.

But now it was completely real, and he let his tongue fight with Harry's for dominance.

There was a certain taste about the brunette; like a mix between vanilla and strawberry. It tasted like Heaven.

The warmth was now a full-blown fire, and Draco loved every single second of it.

Just as Draco was about to pull back for air, the teens heard a voice.

"Oh, my. This is rather awkward."

The boys separated instantly, and turned to face an incredulous looking girl who was just exiting the bathroom. She was rolling down her sleeves carefully, and when neither of the boys said anything, she kept talking.

"Well, I don't suppose either of you could point me in the direction of the Great Hall? I'm new here, and I'm incredibly lost."

Both boys nodded stiffly. Harry said, "Sure. But if you don't mind my asking, who are you?"

"Oh, pardon me," she said. "I just moved here from Scotland, and I'll be in seventh year. I'm a brand-new Slytherin, and my name is Jamie Potter."

* * *

**A/N**: **Okay, so...yeah. They kissed. I made them. Bwahaha.  
And, Harry and Jamie FINALLY MEET. I've already got the next chapter written up, but I've decided to hold it hostage. I want to know just who's reading this story. So if you've read this far, and want to read more, Review! You'll get more chapters. ;)  
Also, to anyone who doesn't have me on Author Alerts: I will be posting a new chaptered Fic about Scorpius and Albus Serverus, and it shall be called Nothing But the Truth. It will also be rated M. So, if you're into that kinda thing, check it out. :D  
Love to my lovers, love to my haters. :3  
(ps, respect to One Republic. I don't own the song or the music. Or the band. Just a fan.)**


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